Part 15

Unless he should consent to do this, they would all run great peril of their honour and of their lives as well; wherefore she besought them to put in practice the timely stratagem which she had provided, or else withdraw from the place forthwith.

As soon as Ciarlo heard this request, what though he would have gone down to hell to serve his comrade, he was conscious that, even if the business should come to a fortunate issue, it would be to him a great loss of good fame were he to be found there stark naked; wherefore he refused altogether to go on such service in such fashion, declaring, however, that if he might go clad and carrying his sword in his hand he would willingly do what they wanted.

Now Filippo had travelled all the way from France to foregather with his lady-love, and, in considering the difficult parts to which they had come, he perceived that his friend was speaking and that the lady was acting with good show of reason; so, after many and divers arguments, for the reason that the lady remained firmly fixed in her purpose and that he himself was more than ever fired with amorous desire, he besought Ciarlo almost with tears that, by the bonds of friendship, he would consent to oblige them, what though the thing itself might be unseemly.

Therefore Ciarlo, seeing how great was the passion which possessed his friend, and to what a pass the affair had come, determined that he would if need be meet death itself rather than be wanting in service to Filippo.

Thereupon the waiting-woman taking Ciarlo by the hand led him in the dark to the lady, and she, having given him kindly welcome, took him into her own chamber, and there bade him take off all his clothes and get into the bed, keeping his sword at hand. Then she softly bade him be of good heart and have patience, for she would soon return and release him. This done, she went full of joy to her Filippo, and having led him into another room they reaped the full and delightful fruit of their desire.

Now when Ciarlo had waited, not two, but four hours, he began to think that it was full time for the lady, or at least for his trusty comrade, to come and set him free; so, hearing no one coming, and perceiving that it was near daybreak, he said to himself:

“If these others, all afire with love, feel no concern at having left me here to play a fool’s part, it is now full time for me to take thought of myself and of my honour.”

Having softly got out of bed, himseeming that the lady’s husband was asleep, he went with the sheet over his shoulders to try to escape, but was hugely annoyed at finding the chamber door securely locked outside; and, not knowing where the windows were, nor on what place they looked, he went back to the bed in a fury.

He heard sounds which told him that the other occupant of the bed was awake and moving, and, though he was pricked both by fear and curiosity, he kept aloof and spake not a word. While he was thus troubled in mind he marked through the fissures of the windows that it was now broad day, and, fearing amain lest he should be espied by his bed-partner, he turned his back, and, gathering himself together and keeping his sword ready for his needs, he resolved to leave whatever might befall him to Fortune, and kept still, mightily troubled in mind.

Before long he heard sounds of the fires being kindled throughout the house, and the hasty steps of the servants as they ran to fetch water; wherefore he determined at the last rather to die as beseemed a good cavalier than to be found there stark naked and making shift for a woman; so, having leapt out of bed with his drawn sword, he went to the door, and, as he was using all his force to open the same, he became aware how someone was unfastening it from without.

He drew back somewhat, and then saw enter Filippo, laughing heartily and holding the lady by the hand. The two straightway began to embrace him in merry wise, albeit they saw he was bursting with rage. But when the lady perceived that he was all bemused, and unwitting where he was, she took him by the hand and said to him:

“My good sir, by the sincere love I bear towards you, and also by that which you have towards certain others, I will assure myself that I may speak to you concerning a matter which intimacy such as ours will allow us to discuss. I know not whether Nature may have failed to bestow upon you French gentlemen that which she always gives to the lower animals. I mean to say that I know of no male beast, whether wild or tame, which, when under the sway of love, will not recognise the female by her odour. And you, forsooth, a wise and discreet gentleman, who have come hither all the way from France on account of love, can it be that your frozen nature is so sluggish that, when Fortune lets you spend the whole of a long night by the side of her for whom you have shown such great tokens of love, you failed to scent out who she was?”

Then, having led him up to the bedside, she let him see and know clearly that it was her sister and no one else who had lain beside him during the night which was just passed.

When he perceived this thing the cavalier was not a little ashamed of himself, but finally all four laughed and joked so merrily that they could scarce stand upright on their feet; and because of the pass to which things had come, it seemed meet to all that, for the setting right of the fault aforesaid, they should once more divide in pairs.

Whereupon Ciarlo, having got back into bed, plucked the fresh flower and the earliest fruit of the goodly garden which fell to his lot, and the two friends remained there, each taking delight with his own lady, until the husband came back from western parts.

THE BURNING YARD.[115]

[115] _Kruptadia_: Heilbronn: Henninger Frères, 1883: vol. 1: _Secret Stories from the Russian_.

A peasant had a daughter who said unto him: “Little father, Vannka would fain futter me.” “Ah! thou fool!” quoth the peasant. “Why give thyself to a stranger? We will futter thee right well ourselves.”

He took an iron stud, warmed it in the stove, and planted it right in her coynte, in such fashion that she could not piss for three months.

Vannka encountered the young girl and again made his proposal.

“Permit me to futter thee,” said he.

Quoth she:

“Thou ravest, Vannka, who art sprung from the devil. My little father hath futtered me, and he hath so scorched my coynte that for three months I have not been able to piss.”

“Fear not, simpleton. My yard is cold.”

“Thou liest, Vannka, devil’s offspring. Let me touch it.”

“Take it, then.”

She took his yard in her hand and cried:

“Ah! wretched devil! thou seest well ‘tis warm! Dip it in the water!”

Vannka dipped his yard in the water and whistled with pain.

“See!” quoth the girl. “It hisseth! I told thee ‘twas burning, and thou didst deceive me, thief!”

And she would not let herself be futtered by Vannka.

TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK.[116]

[116] _Les Faceties de Pogge_ (Poggio) _Florentin_: Translated by Pierre des Brandes: Paris: Gamier Frères, n.d. The English rendering is, of course, our own.

_Of a young wife who was made a fool of by her old husband._

A native of Florence, already old, espoused a young maid, whom the matrons had instructed to resist the first assault of her husband on the wedding night, and to yield herself as reluctantly as possible. She refused, therefore, point-blank, to accede to his desires.

The husband, ‘decks cleared for action and with all sail furled,’ was astonished by this refusal, and asked why she would not give way to his wishes. The virgin replied that she had a pain in her head; whereupon the husband ‘disarmed,’ lay down on his side, and slept till morn.

The young wife, when she perceived that her husband left her alone, felt remorse in that she had followed the counsels of the gossips; she aroused her husband, and told him that she no longer had a pain in the head.

“Ah!” quoth the husband. “I, now, have a pain ... in another part.”[117] And he left his wife virgin as before.

[117] “The text has a play upon words,” says the translator, “which could be translated if the French words had the same meaning as the Latin:--_Dixit (puella) se non amplius dolere caput. Tum ille: ‘At ego nunc doleo caudam.’_ (The girl said that she no longer had a pain in the head. Said the husband: ‘But I have a pain in my tail.’)” This note, we must confess, is a source of some mystification to us, since the relationship between the French and Latin words is both simple and direct. _Cauda_, of course, is the Latin word for _tail_: in the erotic sense it designates the _penis_. (_C.f._ Blondeau: _Dictionnaire érotique latin-française_: Liseux: Paris, 1885.) The Italians use the word _coda_ in a similar sense. _Tail_, in French, is _queue_; in erotic literature it is also a highly common term for the _membrum virile_. (_C.f._ Landes: _Glossaire érotique de la langue française_, and Farmer: _Slang and its Analogues_.) Again, in English, _tail_ is a slang synonym either for the _penis_ or the female _pudendum_. _C.f._ Farmer: _Slang and its Analogues_, who gives numerous examples of the use of the word in this sense. We append a few of his quotations:--(1) Chaucer, _Cant. Tales_, 6047-8: “For al so siker as cold engendreth hayl, A likerous mouth must han a likerous TAYL.” (2) Rochester, _Poems_: “Then pulling out the rector of the females, Nine times he bath’d him in their piping tails.” (3) Motteux, _Rabelais_, V., xxi.: “They were pulling and hauling the man like mad, telling him that it is the most grievous ... thing in nature for the TAIL to be on fire....”

‘Tis a good plan, therefore, to accept what may be profitable and pleasant when ‘tis offered.

_EXCURSUS_ to _TAKE TIME BY THE FORELOCK_.

Quoting from Mérard de Saint-Just, (_Espiègleries Joyeusetés_), Poggio’s translator gives a variant in verse of the foregoing story. We reproduce it in less ambitious English prose:--

“Pierre the Red, wrapped in his bed-clothes, felt himself stimulated by the burning flame of the god of love, and he invited his wife to come straightway to his arms. It chanced that she was praying, and she made reply: ‘Wait a while.’ And whilst her _Paters_ and her _Agnus’_ and her _Aves_ were accomplished, Pierre’s ardour had had time to grow cold. She entered the bed, but the chilled husband maintained his pretence. She drew near him; he did not budge. ‘Beloved, what dost wish? I have said my prayers.’--’Good,’ quoth Pierre the Red. ‘But I have grown soft.’”

FIRST MEETING BETWEEN A YOUTH AND HIS FIANCÉE.[118]

[118] _Kruptadia_: Heilbronn: Henninger Frères, 1883: vol. 1: _Secret Stories from the Russian_.

An old man had a son, a fine lad. Another old man had a daughter, a marriageable girl. They pictured these two young ones married.

“Ivanouchka,” said the father, “I desire thee to marry the daughter of our neighbour; approach her and discourse gently and courteously with her.”

“Machoutka,” said the other old man, “I would give thee in marriage to the son of our neighbour; seek to meet him and have pleasant converse with him.”

These two young persons met in the street and greeted each other.

“Ivanouchka,” quoth the young girl, “my father hath bade me have pleasant discourse with thee.”

“My father hath instructed me likewise,” answered the youth.

“What shall we do? Where sleepest thou, Ivanouchka?”

“In the hay.”

“As for me,” quoth the girl, “I sleep in the coach-house. Come this night to me, and we will hold pleasant converse together.”

Thus it was. During the night Ivanouchka went and lay down with Machoutka.

“Camest thou by the threshing-floor?” asked she.

“Yea. Hast thou seen the heap of dung?”

“I have seen it.”

“What shall we do now?”[119]

[119] The young people are obviously nervous, and are making conversation.

“I must see if thou hast a good instrument.”

“Come, look,” said he, and undid his drawers. “Behold my riches!”

“‘Tis too big for me! See how small is mine!”

“Let me see if mine will go in.”

And the youth set himself to make the trial; his yard rose up erect like a stake, and when he thrust it in, the young girl cried with all her might:

“Ah! that hurteth me! How it biteth!”

“Have no fear. My yard hath not sufficient room; for that reason it is so angry.”

“I told thee that there was not sufficient space for it.”

“Wait--it will stretch.”

Anon, when he made her to feel much pleasure, she said to him:

“Ah! my little heart! Thy riches are indeed worth much money.”

They performed and fell asleep.

But the girl awoke during the night, and kissed the backside of the young man, which she took for his face. He let her do this to satiety, and the girl said to him:

“Knowest thou, Vania, that thou smellest most scurvily!”

THE BREAKER OF EGGS.[120]

[120] Béroalde de Verville: _Le Moyen de Parvenir_: Paris, Gamier Frères; also _Fantastic Tales or The Way to Attain_: translated by Arthur Machen: Carbonnek, 1890. Our extract is a blend of both versions, though we have adhered more closely than Machen to the original text. _Vide_ also _Excursus_ to this story.

Once on a time there lived alone in a lodging near St. Ives a young man. ‘Twas at the time when the debate was running high ‘twixt the monks and the ministers whether ‘twere better to say: “Blessed are they that have dined well,” or, “Blessed are they that laugh.” The young man took but scant interest in these theological discussions, and devoted his attention to the maid, who was a fine enough young thing, though somewhat green. He would talk with her coolly and discreetly, and one day said:

“Thou art from the country, little friend?”

“Truly, sir.”

“I was assured of it and shall love thee none the less: thou art a good girl and a good housekeeper.”

“I thank thee kindly, sir.”

“Well, little friend, since I love thee so much, and that thou mayst serve us well, I must e’en tell thee, for thine own good profit, of a certain ill that befalleth country maids when they come to dwell in the town; ‘tis that small eggs do grow in their bellies and harden there, so that these poor maids have to show their posteriors to the doctor. I would grieve shouldst thou come to that, and it shall not be so an thou wilt hear me. I will do something for thee, and I see that ‘tis full time to begin, for, by thy colour, I can tell that the eggs are already there.”

“Indeed, sir, I am greatly beholden, for truly I am not what I was.”

“To-morrow morning I will give thee something for this malady.”

When morning came, she went to his chamber and he gave her a spoonful of white hypocras,[121] telling her to go about her house-work and, anon, to break her fast on a little dry bread. This treatment was continued for two or three days, but one morning, when her mistress was out of the way, he took hold of the maid and, laughing gently, pushed her against the bed as if to look into her mouth.

[121] An infusion of cinnamon bark, soft almonds, and a little musk and amber, in wine sweetened with sugar. The word is probably derived from Hippocrates, the famous Greek doctor.

“Alas! sir! what wouldst do?” she cried.

“I shall do thee no ill; I would break an egg which is fast hardening.”

She let him do it, and he did it so well that he put live flesh in live flesh.[122] So he finished as soon as he had begun, and she found the business so much to her liking, although he had cooked her somewhat, that she came back again and again to have the eggs broken; in sooth, she had wished for a belly in which one might break eggs for an hundred years without doing aught else.

[122] We omit the two interjections to be found here in the original text, not because they are highly flavoured, but simply because they have no bearing on the narrative. Nor do they merit translation in a note.

One day she loitered over long at this pleasant pursuit, and her mistress fell to scolding her when she descended, saying:

“Thou sly wench! Thou hast been in mischief with that man above! Idiot! Little hussy! What hast been about up there?”

“Naught, madam. Be not wroth; ‘tis as I shall tell thee.”

“Thou hast been after no good with that man above.”

“Nay, madam, thou dost him wrong; he is the most honest man in the world. I had eggs in my belly, and he broke them for me.”

“Eggs, thou slut! what eggs?”

“Behold, madam, if ‘tis not so; I will lift my smock; thou canst see my front part, which is yet all damp with the white of the eggs, which came out when he broke them.”

_EXCURSUS_ to _THE BREAKER OF EGGS_.

_Le Moyen de Parvenir_ of Béroalde de Verville, Canon of St. Gatien at Tours, once a Hugenot, then a Catholic, finally “neither one nor the other,”[123] is a work little known to the English reader, be he student or bibliophile. The cause is not far to seek; no _complete_ and _unexpurgated_ English translation of this much censured book exists. Machen’s rendering, while claiming to be the first in our language, is in no sense full and literal, although free and full-flavoured; the translator, as he admits in his humourous preface, “has been forced, much to his sorrow, to weed out some strongly-scented flowers from this Canonical Garden.” His text, indeed, shows many notable omissions, in particular the more licentious asides and interjections which have no actual bearing on the stories; further, there are sundry additions not found in the old French text--“odd scraps from his own workshop,” as Machen terms them.

[123] _Dissertation_ de Bernard de la Monnoye sur _Le Moyen de Parvenir_.

For the student, then, there are: Machen’s delightful (but _partial_) translation, limited to 500 numbered copies and now a rare book,[124] and numerous editions in _old_ French, some expurgated, and all difficult of understanding where the average English reader is concerned. As we note in the preface to Garnier’s latest issue, the work, for the greater part, “is an enigma to modern readers and contains a crowd of obscurities ... it would need volume after volume to explain and comment upon everything that calls for explanation and comment.”

[124] An experienced auctioneer of books recently told us that until December last he had never met with a copy. Strangely enough, two copies were sold in a week of that month, one, in every respect as clean and perfect as when printed over thirty years ago, realising £4.15s. We believe that a few extra copies on large paper still exist, but the booksellers ask a prohibitive price for them.

_The Way to Attain_ or _The Right Way with Women_ (the title of de Verville’s book has suffered various translations) would seem to have a dual personality; one: a clear-cut collection of stories, witty, realistic, free, Rabelaisian, or obscene as you choose to term them; another: the same stories, enmeshed in a mass of innuendo, obscure sayings, licentious and scatalogical asides, and--sometimes--almost meaningless phraseology. The trouble is to separate the grain from the chaff, the stories from the irrelevant verbiage--not that the latter is not often highly entertaining. Bernard de la Monnoye, in his _Dissertation_ (_cit. sup._), bears out our criticism when explaining the plan of the book. “The author supposes a sort of general banquet,” he writes, “where, without regard for rank or degree, he introduces persons of every kind and age, scallawags for the most part, who, with no object but their own amusement, talk with the utmost freedom, and passing almost imperceptibly from subject to subject, cause the stories to be lost to sight. In fact, they are so jumbled up in the book that one is hard put to find them....”

Both extracts from _The Way to Attain_ given in this volume (Coypeau and His Thread and The Breaker of Eggs) are told without interruption in the original French text, but each is introduced in the most haphazard fashion, preceded and followed by a veritable welter of inconsequent remarks; if Machen found it necessary to weed out the most strongly scented flowers from the Canonical garden, the student will find it equally necessary to dig before he finds the best.

There are other good things, however, besides the stories in _The Way to Attain_. While many of the asides and interjections are gross, vulgar, and, seemingly, pointless, others show a pretty and pungent wit. The canon is for ever having a thrust at his cloth, the monks, and the nuns, and some of his criticisms are worth repeating:--

“Where there are no monks there can be no shamelessness.”

“None sit more at their ease than monks, ministers, and consecrated folk, who, in the place of keeping the holy orders that have been given them, make them into ordure, and leaving the orders of God take the orders of the devil, who giveth them grace to be more lewd and whorish than other men.”

“The women that frequent the abodes of churchmen are not their wives, ... they are first maids, then mates, then mistresses.”

“It is better to have in one’s house a wench with whom one can disport theologically than to go about wandering from pillar to post like a high-toby, and run the risk of getting a nip, like Cornu, who sighed as he lay a-dying of the pox: ‘Now I begin to appreciate the beauties of domesticity.’”

“Once on a time he was prebendary of Chartres, but he left his stall to marry a pretty lass, and the morning after the wedding, as they lay in bed, he said to her: ‘Now, sweetheart, thou dost see how well I love thee, for I left my fair prebend that I might have thee.’ She replied: ‘Then thou wast a fool; thou shouldst have kept thy prebend, and had me also.’ ... It would appear that she knew that some canons are given to waggery.”

“Such cloisterlings, who love not women, are always ready to fish up some ancient, stinking heresy under the pretence of discoursing against the Reformation, talking of vices they impute to others, the which are more tolerable than their own.... It is better to keep a wench than to trouble the peace of Christendom, and to do the work is true godliness, which is the reason why bishops are called fathers-in-God, ... fathers-in-God sounds better than fathers-in-law. And they are certainly godly, that is happy; for happy, thrice happy is the father who hath not the trouble of feeding his children.”

“He was as liberal as our bishop, who had rather give a crown to a wench than a groat to a poor man.”